Everybody who knows me personally knows I am not shy, I am not quiet. I am not backward when it comes to expressing emotion. In other words, I am the complete opposite of my Anthony.

Anthony is shy and quiet. He would rather sit quietly somewhere and observe what’s going on instead of being what’s going on. Opposites truly do attract. Our tastes and personalities couldn’t be more different.

I like top 40, rock, southern rock… He is a bluegrass musician.

I like karaoke bars…. He’d rather be somewhere listening to a live band.

I like sushi & other exotic foods…He’d rather have Burger King or Taco Bell.

I drive like my pants are on fire… He takes his time a & enjoys the scenery.

The differences are many, but the love is the same.

Anyhoo… Anthony wasn’t 100% sure about me in the beginning. I think he had been convinced by various mutual acquaintances that I was a complete wild cat and was one to be reckoned with. That, my friends, is just an act.

Still yet, he was gun shy of me enough that even after he had fallen in love with me, he was skeerd to say it. Rather than saying it, everytime he’d come around, he’d have another CD for me and he’d tell me “listen to #8” or whatever number the specific song would be. All of these songs would be lovey-dovey, oooey-goooey ditties. I got the message really fast and eventually he gave in and told me how much he loves me. What’s not to love, right? I just wanted to share the words to a song and the outcome of his profession of love and devotion to me, his Diva.

The song that captured my heart was: You Are My Flower – Flatt & Scruggs – Circa

It goes a little somethin like this:

You are my flower That’s blooming in the mountain so high

You are my flower That’s blooming there for me

When summertime is gone and snow begins to fall

You can sing this song and say to one and all

So wear a happy smile and life will be worthwhile

Forget the tears but don’t forget to smile

Now, ain’t that the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen in your life? What was the outcome of this?   Well, I went and got more ink.   I am his flower, indeed.

I’m not immoral.  I’m not just not ashamed to admit that I am human and that I possess human wants, needs and desires.  Just like everyone else.  Even after reading and re-reading and re-reading again my post about Lust, I’ll still stand by my honesty.  Be careful before you cast stones.

Today I’ll admit to my gluttonous nature.  Gluttony, as defined by dictionary.com, is excessive eating and drinking.  From all of the various definitions out there, I’m taking it to mean any habit in which one has no control over.  Whether it be food, alcohol, illicit drugs, ciggies, sex… whatever.  You know it, I’ve got them all covered.

Admittedly, I am a total fan of Taco Hell.  When Diva went on a diet last year and cut all fast food out of the diet, Taco Hell took a major hit and their stock dropped immediately.  Yes, I am a serious Taco Hell glutton.  No mas.  No mas.  I am a burritoholic.  My willpower sucks.  Gluttony at its finest.  Too bad there isn’t a Del Taco in Tennesse.  It would really be on then.

However, also encapsulated within the definition is excessive drinking.  BINGO.  That would be me again.  I admit, I partake of my fair share of intoxicating beverages.  I’m a hard working, professional in the biomedical equipment business all week long, with the exception of the occassional Wednesday outing.

MMMMMM….. beer!

On Friday night, I tend to dive to the bottom of the Michelob Light (and more recently Mich Ultra Amber) and take an evening long swim. 

Maybe it will get me elected to public office one day.  At least nobody could dig any bones out of my closet.  They’ve already been exposed.

Well, kids. Minutes are ticking non-stop and soon I will be moving out of my bachelorette pad into my marital lair. So here I am, with approximately 2.5 weeks to go if I am to be out of my bachelorette pad before the end of this month. I honestly don’t see it happening because there is so damn much to do.

It doesn’t seem that there will be enough days, let alone waking hours in those days, to do all of the stuff I have to do before said countdown expires. Seriously doubt I’ll make it by the end of the month, but if I can I’ll save rent money for my trip and that’s a plus!

So, I’m having a complete meltdown trying to get the black trim in my bedroom covered back up with antique white. What kind of brain fart did I have when I decided to paint my bedroom walls pink with black trim all around??

Honestly, I think I could have found a better way to express my female creativity. But no, I had to have my bedroom look like a Pink Lady jacket. Even though I’m bitching about it now, it was really, really cute. I had pink sheets and black comforter and curtains. My lil girlie space that I shared with NO MAN…. well, at least until I met Tony.

It’s pretty sad that I have a big ol’ king sized bed, which has been effectively dismantled for the duration of this bedroom restoration project, and my big ass is having to sleep on the matress on the floor. 

So, as you are snuggling into your nice bed tonight, think of me and the dang crick in my neck.

Women are catty.  Especially toward each other.  Especially when one woman has performed an act of woman on woman betrayal.  It is not something taken lightly and is most likely not to be forgiven. 

Over the last several years, I have emerged from spending most of my time locked in the house and being a slave to my life, kids, ex-husband… blah, blah, blah.    I was a young 17 when I married my first husband and didn’t experience the “meat market” type bar scene in which women are all in competition with one another to take some schmo home.  Pu-leaze. 

Then I toddled into life as a single, grown woman.  It was never my intention to pick up on any dude at all.  We (the Pirates) were always out, and if you saw one, the rest weren’t too far behind.  We generally were out together, as a group, on Wednesday and Friday for close to a year.   During that year I witnessed several acts of sluttiness on various levels and even fell victim once to a chick chasing my fella.  Of course, this chick (as it turns out) has extremely low self esteem and chases anything with a penis.

Even though I’m not single anymore and I have no desire to go back to yesterdrama… Damn if I don’t hold a helluva grudge toward someone in particular that recently not so directly crossed my path.  She was just in the area.  The fur on the back of my neck stood up and my claws came out and if I’m not mistaken, I think I even hissed a few times.  And they wanted me to come out and have a drink in the same bat bar at the same bat time??  Um.  No.  I’ll stay home and watch Burn Notice, thanks!

Expressing interest in a man that another woman has already expressed interest in is a huge no-no.  Even if you are sadly repugnant and shameless.  Wouldn’t you rather keep your girlfriend  (who you know will be there for you for life) than to stab her in the back in order to have a one night fling with a man who is going to talk down about you to his friends and other lovers who know about you?

Kissing another girl’s man when she goes to the bathroom is also a big no-no.  Seriously.  Do you think that his girl isn’t going to find out that you waited until she got up and excused herself from the table, before you not-so-eloquently shoved your tongue down his throat?  If the girl has any real friends, they will tell her about your skanky ways as soon as she gets back to the table.  In general, you will have lost a friend (maybe several) as well as becoming a laughing stock.  (I witnessed this scenario last spring… since I wasn’t involved, it was actually quite amusing).

In general, women are emo-kids in adult wrappers.  At least I am, and I know alot of other women (my age, younger and older) that are the same way.

Everybody has baggage.  By the time you make it into your mid-30’s, if you don’t have baggage, you must not have been doing a very good job at having a life.  Many folks, men and women, by the mid-30’s have been married, had children and (in many cases) suffered through an ugly divorce or split with a significant other.

I for one have dished out my fair share (if not much, much more) of questions as to whether my significant other really loves me.  I’ve tried to push him away several times, because it’s easier to let go and hurt a little than to really fall in love and get hurt ALOT in the end.

Why did I hit him with the ever present question, “Do you love me?”  “Why do you love me?”????

Because I had a life, a past.  And the experience wasn’t all good.  Not that my life was stricken with hardship on a constant basis, but I was married to a man who had no clue about anything but drugs and video games.   Yes, I chose to stay in it a lot longer than was advised.  Yes, I could have packed up and left.  But, I married him, and I was hellbent to stick with it or die.  He was nice to me when he wanted something from me.  Otherwise, he said little and did even less.

Then I grew up.  I realized it wasn’t healthy and I had to get out.  So, I got out.   But I found out I had trust issues when I finally jumped.  My significant other has NEVER done the first thing to make me think he’s going to hurt or leave me.  He has never done anything but open doors for me and treated me like I am his equal.

Could I accept that?  Simply put, no.

I ass-u-me (d) that there was no man out there that is genuine.  There was no man out there that could really love me, for rowdy old me.  There was no man out there that really would ask how my day went just because he wanted to share a few minutes together after work.  ETC, ETC, ETC…..  the list could go on forever.

A woman wants to be happy with a man.  Companionship, intimacy… yes, please.  But sometimes getting her to accept that not all men are the same is a real challenge, but they also want to be happy with themselves look nice and be relax and use spa services from sites as https://complexcityspa.com help with this. Even if she knows it’s true.  Her past may be a horrible, scary monster that must be slayed before she can go on.  It can be done if there is room to work on these things in the relationship.  If not, it’s doomed, go on.

Men can carry the same baggage, but due to ego and other manly things, it may not be as apparent.